Chapter 20: Scent from the shadows

Samantha’s POV)

The cool glass doors of the elevator slid open, and the sleek, polished marble lobby of the agency stretched out before us.

"I'm telling you, Sam," Chloe said, gesturing dramatically with her coffee cup as we walked toward the exit. "For the launch party, we should probably go for something more like a black-tie event. Something that screams elite. What do you think—"

She was cut off by a sudden, jarring shout echoing off the high ceilings.

"What the hell is that noise?" Chloe muttered, stopping in her tracks.

Near the security turnstiles, a loud, agitated voice was bouncing off the walls, shattering the professional quiet of the lobby.

"I said my girlfriend works here! You can't keep me out!"

Chloe looked first, squinting toward the glass entrance. "Wait. Isn't that Marcus? What the hell does he think he's doing?"

I turned in the direction she was looking, my stomach instantly dropping into a cold, heavy knot. "Who?"

And then, I saw him. Marcus was shoving against the velvet ropes, his face flushed and his hair disheveled, trying to bypass the security desk.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I muttered under my breath.

I took off toward the entrance, my heels clicking sharply against the marble as I marched toward where he was currently battling with our head of security. "It's okay, Ben," I called out, my voice tight. "I know him."

Ben, a burly man who took his job very seriously, slowly lowered his arm, letting Marcus go. He adjusted his suit jacket, cutting Marcus a dark look. "Okay, ma'am. My apologies," he said, though he clearly didn't feel apologetic in the slightest.

Honestly, I couldn't blame him.

Marcus stumbled forward, straightening his shirt, his expression instantly shifting from angry to desperate the second his eyes landed on me. "Hi, baby. I've missed you," he said, stepping into my space.

I stared at him in pure bewilderment, the sheer audacity of his arrival making me roll my eyes so hard it practically hurt.

Beside me, Chloe scoffed loudly. My girl couldn't even pretend to not hate his stupid ass. But we were already in the middle of a scene, so I figured I might as well stay and listen to whatever desperate bullshit he had to say before I had security throw him out.

"Save me the bullshit lies and tell me why you're here, Marcus," I said, crossing my arms defensively. "You don't get to come to my place of work and cause a scene. It's completely unacceptable."

"Tell him, girl," Chloe hyped from right behind my shoulder.

Marcus took a step closer, trying to reach for my hands, but I stepped back. "Look, Sammie, I messed up and I'm sorry," he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. "I want you back."

I looked at him like he had completely lost his mind, and before I could stop myself, a burst of incredulous laughter escaped my lips.

Chloe didn't hesitate to join in, her laugh dripping with sarcasm. "Like hell you do."

"Now listen to me, Marcus," I said, my voice dropping into a cold, dangerous register as I glared straight into his eyes. "We are broken up. And I would really hate to see you bundled out of here by police if you ever come anywhere near this building, or my home, again. Do you understand?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I turned on my heel to walk away, but before I could take a single step, Marcus lunged forward. His fingers wrapped around my wrist with sudden, bruising force, ripping me backward.

"What the hell!" I gasped, stumbling.

"You don't get to end what we have on your own!" Marcus snarled, his grip tightening.

"Marcus, if you don't let go of her hand right now—" Chloe warned, stepping forward.

"Stay out of this, Chloe!" he yelled, turning his furious gaze on her before looking back at me, his eyes wild. "I love you, Sammie! I can't live without you!"

"Leave me alone, you psycho!" I shoved at his chest with my free hand, but he wouldn't budge.

"Why? Because you've started fucking someone else, huh?" Marcus sneered, his face twisting into something ugly and bitter. "You think I haven't heard about you and that bloody motorcycle gang leader? So you like 'em rough and dangerous now? I can be that for you—"

He didn't get to finish the sentence.

In a split second, the air in the lobby shifted. Three men—shadowy, imposing figures I hadn't even noticed standing near the lounge seating—materialized out of absolutely nowhere.

Before Marcus could even register their presence, the largest of the three stepped into his blind spot. With a terrifying, fluid speed, a heavy, tattooed fist connected squarely with Marcus's cheek.

Crack.

The force of the blow lifted Marcus off his feet, sending him crashing hard onto the polished marble floor. He groaned, clutching his jaw as blood instantly began to smear across his lips.

The man who had thrown the punch stood over him like a brick wall. He wore a dark, casual jacket, his knuckles slightly red, and his expression was completely deadpan."Leave the woman alone," the giant said, his voice a low, gravelly threat that vibrated through the floorboards. "And get out of here before you start missing a limb."

Chloe and I stood there, utterly starstruck. My heart was hammering against my ribs, my jaw practically on the floor. Where had they come from? Had they been sitting in our lobby, watching us this entire time?

Marcus scrambled backward on his hands and knees, his face pale as he glared up at them, his bravado entirely gone, replaced by pure terror. "This... this is far from over," he stammered, trying to find his footing.

The lead man took one slow, deliberate step toward him.

That was all it took. Marcus scrambled to his feet, spun around, and practically sprinted out the glass sliding doors, disappearing into the city streets.

The three men didn't even watch him go. They turned in unison, adjusting their jackets, and began to walk toward the exit as if they had just finished a routine business meeting.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey..." Chloe called out, her professional composure completely shattered as she ran a hand through her hair. "Who are you guys?"

They didn't even glance back. They ignored her entirely, pushing through the glass doors and vanishing into the evening crowd as quickly as they had appeared.

A heavy, stunned silence fell over the lobby.

"Well..." Chloe breathed, slowly turning her head to look at me, her eyes wide. "That was incredibly hot."

I let out a shaky breath, a sudden bubble of nervous laughter escaping me. "Girl, please."

"For real, though," Chloe said, grabbing my arm and pulling me close as we finally started walking toward the street. "You think they were Rick's men?"

The image of those heavy, dark-clothed men—their quiet authority, their absolute lack of fear—flashed through my mind. It was a signature style I recognized all too well.

"I mean... I don't know," I murmured, my heart doing a strange, fluttering flip in my chest. "Rick already made it clear that he doesn't want me. Why would he have men watching over me?"

"Because he cares?" Chloe offered, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.

I swallowed hard, the lingering adrenaline making my skin prickle with heat. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to tell myself it was a coincidence. But deep down, the thought of Rick keeping a silent, protective shield around me made a shiver run straight down my spine.

"You know what," I said, shaking my head to clear the sudden, overwhelming image of his dark eyes from my mind. "It's been a long day. And I seriously need a drink”.

                      ~~~~

The door to my apartment was locked, the lobby chaos finally fading. Fresh out of the shower and wrapped in a short silk robe, I poured a glass of Pinot Noir to calm my nerves.

Ding-dong.

Thinking it was Chloe returning to dissect the fight, I swung the door open. "Girl, you might actually have to start paying rent here, because—"

The words died in my throat. It was certainly not Chloe.

He stood in the dim hallway, looking like a beautifully dark shadow. He wore a fitted black tee that hugged his muscular chest, scuffed combat boots, and an aura that screamed danger to anyone else—but the moment his dark eyes met mine, that cold edge melted into something breathtakingly sweet. I'm a sucker for body art it seems because I couldn't get enough of the tattoos that ran up to his neck. He smelled like rain, cedar, and leather.

My breath caught. "Rick... um, what are you doing here?"

His gaze trailed down my damp hair and bare legs before locking back onto my eyes. "I needed to see you," he said, his low rumble sending a shiver straight to my core. "Can I come in? Please?"

I was going to let him in when an absolute panic hit me. My apartment was a total disaster.

"Hold on a sec... wait here," I said, pointing a finger.

Rick’s lips twitched into an effortlessly seductive smile. "Okay."

I slammed the door and scrambled. I snatched a pair of black lace panties off the couch and stuffed them into my robe pocket. Next, the pink pocket-vibrator sitting casually on the coffee table—I grabbed it, sprinted to the bedroom, and shoved it under my pillow. After kicking my embarrassing duck-print pajama pants under the bed, I smoothed my robe and ran back.

I cracked the door open. Rick was still there, towering in the doorway. "May I come in now?"

"Yes you may," I murmured, stepping aside.

As he brushed past, his intoxicating scent hit me. My hands twitched with the sudden, reckless urge to hurl myself at him. He walked in, his heavy boots commanding the room, yet he turned to me with absolute gentleness.

"You can sit," I stammered, gesturing to the couch. "Um... I'm gonna get you a glass.”